Page 13 of Elemental Truth (Mysterious Fields #3)

13

NOVEMBER 16TH IN ARUNDEL

T he problem with visiting Arundel in November was that there was a dearth of places to be out of the weather that were both decorously public enough and not near Lady Maylis, Lord Clovis, or the Dowager Lady Chrodechildis. After a bit of awkward consideration, Sigbert had offered the orangerie along the far edge of the garden. It was a pleasant place to sit, with white wicker benches and chairs tucked under one area of trees. The temperature was comfortable, too, enough that Thessaly took off her cloak.

She tried not to think too often of the charmed locket attached to her watch chain. And she was careful not to draw attention to the small charmed stone tucked into the depths of the single pocket on her skirt. For one thing, touching them too often might affect the delicate enchantments. Second, she absolutely didn’t want Sigbert or any of the others to notice.

Sigbert was, she thought, nervous. That was very curious. They had been sitting for a minute or two. He had just utterly run out of commentary about the decorative ironwork and the varieties of oranges and lemons in the orangerie. He turned to her, opened his mouth, then swallowed. “Pardon, Thessaly, may I speak perhaps a little plainly? The sort of conversation I want to have in private, without Maman or Father overhearing?”

“Of course.” She couldn’t quite resist. “I think they’re hoping for that, or your mother would not have encouraged us to go off and talk like this.”

His nose wrinkled up. “Maman does have ideas. She’s very set on you transferring the marriage agreements. It would make things, erm. Tidy?”

“Momentary tidiness is not the best reason for a marriage I’ve ever heard,” Thessaly said, though she managed a smile at the end to ease some of the sting. “And it’s more complicated than just transferring them. My situation has changed.”

“Maman was furious about that. And Father.” Sigbert met her eyes, then considered. “May I ask about your parents?”

“Oh, also furious. Mother and Father are pressing me to consider suitable arrangements as promptly as possible.” Mother directly, when they’d had tea at Cousin Owain’s on Wednesday. And Father, indirectly, though Mother had conveyed his arguments both in conversation and by letter. Father’s line of persuasion had to do with benefits to the family, with no consideration of Thessaly at all beyond being a pawn in a decades-long game of chess. Mother had, at least, talked about who might suit, as if there were choices. “You do have some potential competition. But I told Mother and Father the same thing I told your mother, that it is too early for that, even for negotiations.”

“Who else?” Sigbert tilted his head. “If I may ask.”

“Cyrus Smythe-Clive. He and I have discussed the matter, even.” It was so pleasant to tell the absolute truth there. “And Mother floated a few other names to consider. Some years older.”

“Interested in a child, then. A second marriage?” Sigbert was at least deft enough with that part. Then, earnestly, he said, “May I take your hand, Thessaly?”

The fact he was asking was a pleasant difference from his brother. Her hands were gloved against the November chill as well as for propriety, so she nodded, and felt him take her right hand in his.

“Childeric mistreated you. I would not do so.” Now, that was an interesting move in this duel, as it was unfurling.

Thessaly made a deliberate choice, blinking several times. “I think that pair of sentences needs more explanation and context, please.” It was not for her to give more away.

Sigbert dropped her hand, standing up, apparently so he could pace a little, from one side of the seating area to the other. “I loved my brother. Of course I loved him.” It sounded like he might be protesting a hair too much, actually, but Thessaly would not call him on that, not in this moment. Instead, she just nodded once, hoping it would encourage him.

“But we were different. He was always the favoured one, the golden child. He did everything first.” That was true, and it was a certain undeniable aspect of their respective ages.

Thessaly considered. “And better?”

Sigbert snorted. “That’s the thing.” He paused, standing right in front of her, rather than a step or three to either side. “He did well enough in school, but there are several reasons he wouldn’t duel you.”

“He didn’t like losing. I thought that was obvious enough.” Thessaly folded her hands in her lap.

“That was true, but it was one part of it. He wasn’t actually that good, I think. It didn’t really strike me until he was working with Master Fulton, preparing, actually. I hadn’t seen him duel much, and he wouldn’t duel me, either.” Sigbert spread his hands, as if measuring, then went back to pacing back and forth.

“Did he let you watch?” Thessaly was intrigued now, beyond wanting to see where Sigbert was going with this conversation.

“Several times. So long as I praised, not any other commentary. Fulton was— mmm. He did what was safe, not what he’d been hired for. Childeric didn’t fall over his own feet, but he wasn’t quick magically. Not the way he bragged about, made everyone assume he was.” Sigbert stopped again. “I’m not like that.”

“Would you duel me?” Thessaly put it out as a challenge. “Not today. I’m not dressed for it.”

“If it would help you consider marrying me, certainly. Suitors have been set worse challenges, by far,” Sigbert said. “I want to do the thing properly. You seem reasonable, if treated reasonably. We could have a good life of it. Make both sets of parents happy.”

“You realise your parents have not, shall we say, endeared themselves to me as relatives by marriage. Not recently. Even allowing for their grief and the upset and all that. They also kept me in the dark about what was planned, plans that very much affect me, and they certainly did not discourage Childeric in any of his actions.”

“No. That is a problem, isn’t it?” Sigbert stopped again, before going back to pacing, more slowly this time, with his hands tucked behind his back. “I can only move them so far, though. It isn’t as if I became the golden child. It’s just that there isn’t a golden child right here to compare me to. Just his memory.” That went sharper and sour.

“And he is even more perfect in memory than in life,” Thessaly said, slowly. “He was really rather awful to me. What will you do if I tell you?”

“I’ll make oath on not telling, if that would be of help.” Sigbert offered it remarkably promptly. “Not to anyone without your permission. Whatever is discussed in the rest of this conversation?”

Thessaly inclined her head, and she listened to him. He used one of the standard forms. This was an oath that anyone who went through Schola learned well enough, because it was handy in such cases. She could see him wince as the Silence magic twisted around him for just an instant. Once that was done, he came and sat again, as if listening would take all his attention. “I would like to know what you will share.”

It took her several moments to consider how to put this. “I expected him to honour the agreements. But even at the betrothal, he was making a show of it, in public, where others could see, and he was beginning to ignore me, in private. He went off to play cards the afternoon before the party. For example. He cared about his pleasure, and whether I could keep up, not my comfort.”

Sigbert opened his mouth, then closed it, before trying again. “And later?”

“You’ve read the agreements?” Sigbert nodded, so Thessaly went on. “Nothing I did with Vitus Deschamps went against our agreements. And yet, he was furious. The gossip was, all right, discomforting. But he didn’t even ask me the truth of it. He threatened me. He threatened Vitus. And all while I’m sure he had a mistress. I hope she’s doing all right, since?”

Sigbert gaped. “You knew?”

“Gossip finds a way,” Thessaly said. “It’s like water. Even if it weren’t the sensible wager, were I a betting woman. I don’t know much about the details, but that he had a mistress, yes. Someone in Trellech, I gathered.”

“He did.” Sigbert looked down, as if tracing a line through the paving stones of the floor. “A widow, her husband had been one of the better up-and-coming tailors. He died suddenly. Childeric helped pay for her flat. Some of the inheritance from Grand-père. He’d see her once or twice a week, on his schedule. Sometimes we’d be at some private party. Nothing unseemly in public, of course. Maman would have been furious at that.”

“And your father?” Thessaly leaned forward a little. She didn’t know if she wanted to ask if Sigbert had a mistress or dalliances. She wondered if he’d say anything if she didn’t press the point, and that was perhaps more useful information.

“Oh, Father was the one who encouraged us. And he arranged some more substantial token for Mathilde, not long after Childeric’s funeral. Enough to see her set up in her own shop.” Sigbert looked up sharply, caught out, apparently, in honesty. “I also have a mistress. I wouldn’t impose on you for that sort of thing, not unless we were trying for a child, or unless you asked. That’s our custom.” Then he tilted his head. “I don’t think Uncle Dagobert does. Not for a while, actually. I think that’s part of why Father disapproves of him.”

Thessaly thought it a rather odd custom, and also potentially rather tedious for whoever the mistress was, to be at someone else’s beck and call, and with only dubious security. “And what do you think about my seeing other men in private? Well, likely only one.”

Sigbert shrugged. “It is not how we’ve done things. And gossip would, of course, be unacceptable. Maman and Tante Bradamante would disapprove. And Grand-mère. But in private? I would not be bothered by it. With all the appropriate precautions against a child, of course. There is the bloodline to think of.” It was a more direct answer than she’d got from Childeric, at least. Sigbert added, “And you have your own property. It has a portal, yes?”

“It does.” Thessaly inclined her head.

“There. You could easily ensure discretion.” Sigbert took a breath, as if he were deciding whether to say something. Thessaly applied all the patience she’d learned, duelling, about waiting for the necessary time, for the right moment. “Childeric hurt me. Bullied me, hit me a few times. Forced me into doing what he wanted, much more often than that.”

“Threatening to tell your parents, something like that?” Thessaly needed the shape of it. Sigbert nodded, once. He obviously wasn’t inclined to go into the topic or topics.

“I miss how he was, when he was in a good mood. I miss having a big brother who went ahead of me in the world. But I don’t miss that, the way he was when he got spiteful.” Now, Sigbert was definitely talking to the ground, unable to look up. Thessaly hesitated, then reached out to touch his hand. Not to hold it, not to do any of that. “And now, there’s none of him.”

Thessaly let out a breath. “No.” She cleared her throat. “I’m not saying I’ll agree to marry you. Your parents are still, shall we say, a cautionary tale. But if it would help you to tell them you’d talked to me about it, you may. And that I appreciated the clarity of your position, however you wish to put that. You may say that.”

“That would be a help.” Sigbert glanced out the glass. “I suppose we should walk back up. Or would you like to stretch your legs a little more, a circuit of the gardens?”

A circuit of the gardens would give the charms she carried a little more chance to work, and perhaps a chance for her to get a bit of dirt. She could pretend to lose one of the decorative buckles from her shoe. She had set that up as a possibility this morning. “The gardens, please. I could use a little fresh air before tea.” He stood, offering to help her arrange her cloak, and then they walked, side by side, not arm in arm, on a tour of the sleeping gardens.

She got a chance to sneak a little dirt from the furthest edge nearest the Arun, and slip it into the tiny snuff box she’d brought for the purpose.